Where Do We Belong?
by LCFC
Summary: Post Devil's Trap. John is dead,Dean is injured, Sam is alone. Where does he belong?
1. Chapter 1

**Where Do We Belong?**

This is post Devil's Trap – I like to write about what hasn't happened yet (well not in England anyhow) because it gives you a bit more license. I don't own Supernatural or it's characters – I do own a dog though!

Sam Winchester sat cross-legged on the hospital bed and looked down at all his earthly goods spread out before him. A leather wallet full of fake ID's, $30, two coupons for some sort of breakfast cereal, a creased and much viewed photograph of Jess. Sam felt a slightly hysterical laugh forming in his throat and he bit it back. He had been in hospital for over three weeks and his insurance was fast running out. Dean was in for the long haul and Sam had no idea when his brother would be well enough to leave. At one point the Doctors had told him his brother would die. He had suffered from internal bleeding, a punctured lung, three broken ribs, a broken leg and severe lacerations to the face and chest. Dean had been in a coma for almost two weeks and even now spent most of his time sleeping. He was too weak to really take in his situation, too weak to be told that his father was dead, his beloved car had been totalled, everything he owned had gone up in a huge explosion of petrol and fire. Sam had spent most of his waking hours by Dean's bedside just holding on to his brother, willing him to live, willing him to be strong, wanting him to be the big brother he had always been. He would have sold his soul, yeah really, to have 'his' Dean back, but Sam knew that the wise cracking, glib Dean was gone forever. That Dean had died along with his father and the Impala and now Sam had to be the strong one, the one to keep what was left of their family together.

Sam had been declared strong enough to leave and now he was sitting here, dragging out the final minutes before he vacated his bed and left the hospital to go; to go where? He didn't have anywhere to go. He couldn't go back to the motel that they had stayed in before the accident, as he had no money to pay for the room. He couldn't go home because he had no home. Fuck – he couldn't even sleep in the car because he didn't have the fucking car. Sam put his fingers to his head and rubbed hard. He didn't know where to go, all he knew is that he had to stay nearby to hold on to Dean.

He felt weak and tired. It was cold out after the intense heat of the hospital and he had nothing but his hoodie to keep him warm. He pulled the hood up and thrust his hands in his pockets, his mind whirling. How would he possibly afford the hospital bills? Where could he stay? What would he do when Dean was finally well enough to leave the safety of the hospital? He realised he was shaking and his legs felt wobbly and unconnected. He leant against the nearest wall, shutting his eyes and holding back the tears that threatened. He had to be strong; he had to be strong for Dean.

"Are you alright?" a women's voice, gentle "Come on – lets get you inside" A hand on his arm, steering. "Jake – get some coffee"

The room was large and painted a dull yellow. Rows of beds lined up on either side of the wall, each with a rough grey blanket and off white pillow. In the centre of the room was a table, laden with coffee, donuts and flasks of soup. Sam leant against the woman who had helped him, his voice rough and quiet "This is a shelter for the homeless" he said

"Sure is honey" the woman sat him down on the nearest bed "You look all in, you should lie down for a while"

"I'm alright" it was a lie and she knew it "I don't need…I can't stay here"

"Should I call someone?" her tone told him that she knew there was no one to call "No – then at least have some coffee" she held out a hand to him "I'm Mary – I run this shelter and you are?"

"Sam – Sam Winchester" he found himself looking at the woman for the first time. She was in her early forties he guessed, with long blonde hair and deep blue eyes. She wore a brightly coloured gipsy skirt, a black vest and soft leather sandals. Silver bracelets clanked together as she moved her arms and Sam could see the glint of gold in her ears. Her smile was kind and gentle, but her voice was firm

"Are you in any trouble Sam?"

"No, No" he found himself shaking his head a little too vehemently "I, I just got out of hospital today and I don't have anywhere to go"

"I see" she handed him a Styrofoam cup of coffee "Drink it, it's hot and sweet and will make you feel a hell of a lot better" she smiled again "You can stay here if you like Sam. You don't have to tell me anything, I just like to know that you're not going to bring any trouble here – understand?"

"I don't belong here" Sam's weakness forced his emotions, his panic closer to the surface than he would have liked "I'm not…" he was about to say 'homeless' but his mouth could not form what his mind knew to be a lie.

"No one thinks they belong here Sam" Mary put a hand on his arm "No one wants to be here" she sipped her own coffee "Now at least rest awhile. If you've just got out of hospital then you must have been pretty sick, you need to rest"

"I was in a car accident" Sam found himself lying back on to the bed. Mary's voice was soft, hypnotic and he found it strangely comforting. "I'm feeling better now"

"I know Sam, I know, just sleep a little, just rest"

He did as she asked, his eyes closing. He felt the rough blanket across his legs, the plumping of the pillow beneath his head and, somehow, against his will, he slept.

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Sam lay on the bed, eyes closed against the darkness. He could hear soft snoring, the occasional rustle of a mattress, he could smell the pungent scent of sweat and stale alcohol and he knew he was no longer alone in the shelter. He wondered, not for the first time, how he had ended up here. He thought of his father, so determined, so proud, so driven. He thought of Dean, daddy's little soldier, wanting so much to please, to follow orders. How they had worked together as a family to destroy the thing that had killed his mom and Jess. How had it come to this? He and Dean were orphans now, homeless, directionless orphans. The worse thing was that the demon was still alive, still out there, still able to seek them out and destroy them. Shivers ran down his spine, as he thought of his brother alone and vulnerable in his hospital bed. He wanted to sit up, but he still felt weak and his head hurt. He was hungry too, the fatty hospital breakfast that had been his last meal seemed a long time ago and he hadn't really got the money to spend on luxuries such as food. Fuck, he hadn't even been able to give his dad a proper burial next to mom like he wanted, instead his father had been given a paupers funeral and Sam didn't even know what happened to his ashes, his concerns being for the living; for Dean. Tears that had been held in check earlier began to seep, unbidden and unwanted, down his hot cheeks and he didn't even possess the strength to brush them away. Soon the pillow beneath his head was damp and he turned his face into it to stifle the painful sobs that shook him as he cried for his dad, his brother, his mom and Jess. Grief that had been buried deep down finally surfaced and he sobbed until he had nothing left inside but dry heaves and then, too exhausted to do anymore, he slept.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When Sam woke up he felt drained. His stomach growled and he lay for a moment trying to make sense of his surroundings. It was still early and there wasn't much light but already the shelter was coming to life. He could hear the rustling and rumblings of those around him; smell with sharp clarity the bitter scent of sweat and urine. He sat up slowly, rubbing his sore eyes and stretched out his arms and legs, virtually able to feel his muscles popping.

"Coffee" as if by magic Mary appeared beside him holding a steaming Styrofoam cup "You look as if you could use it"

"I seem to be getting personal treatment" Sam took the coffee and sipped it gratefully

"Not really Sam" today she wore baggy combat pants and a bright red vest, her blonde hair clipped back from her tired face "I like to make sure everyone who comes in here is ok and I was worried about you last night" she frowned "You still look a little pale. Have you eaten?"

"Not since yesterday" he got up off the bed, conscious that he had slept in his clothes and that he must smell almost as bad as some of the other inmates "Is there anywhere I can wash and clean up a little?"

"We're not the Ritz Sam" she laughed lightly "No one minds what you look or smell like in here"

"I have to go and see my brother" Dean's pale and worn face flashed through his mind "He needs me"

"You have time for some breakfast" Mary took his hand "Afterwards I'll get someone to take you to the men's room, you can clean up there"

"I don't even have a change of clothes" even as he spoke he felt the tears well up in his eyes again and he swallowed them down. Everything he owned, every stitch of clothing had been in the back of the Impala when it had exploded. Apart from the grubby shirt, worn jeans and blood stained hoodie, he had nothing.

"We have some spare stuff here" she looked up at him, frowning "Although you're a little tall there Sam, the jeans might be a bit short" her hand squeezed his "You shouldn't feel ashamed or embarrassed about this Sam, a lot of people don't have homes or jobs, that's why we're here"

Sam stared at her and shook his head. What could he say? He did have a job; he had a job as a demon hunter, a modern day ghost hunter. He felt a snort of hysterical laughter bubble in his throat and he swallowed it down. He knew that their transient existence would catch up with them sooner or later. Living out of a car and keeping your clothes in a duffle bag, it was hardly the ideal life. Mary stared at him, curiously

"Are you ok Sam? Are you sure you should be out of hospital?"

"Mary I...I don't know what to do" he gripped her hand, his voice shaking "My father's dead and my brother's really sick, I don't have enough money to pay his insurance" the floodgates had opened again and he wasn't able to stop. All the years of living with Dean, holding in his emotions, not being able to have the occasional 'chick-flick' moment had broken him and he needed, just needed to talk to someone, to let it all out "I need to get a job and earn some money, I need to get things for my brother, he needs somewhere to go when he finally gets out of hospital. God" he looked around him "He can't come here"

"Sam" she put her arms round his waist "Sam calm down" she gestured to one of her helpers "Come on Sam, lets go somewhere more private, to my office maybe. We need to talk"

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In her office she gave him more coffee and tried to calm him. He was sobbing relentlessly now and there was little she could do but stroke his hair and whisper soothing words. She had worked in the shelter for nearly twenty years but it still got to her. The young ones were the worse, boys like Sam who had barely started out in life and were already on the slippery surface to ruin. She looked at the boy's pale and tear-stained face and wondered. Sam was different, he did have somebody. She had never heard anyone speak with such love and desperation about another person before. Whoever this brother was, Sam must love him more than life itself.

His sobs finally stilled and he sat quiet, his eyes downcast, his high cheekbones flushed with embarrassment at his breakdown. She could see that he was not a man given to showing much emotion, there was something very self contained about him, something very special. When he had finished the second cup of coffee she took it from him and sat opposite him musing.

"Sam I might have a solution for you" her fingers tapped the desk lightly "You need money and a place to stay and I know someone who needs a live in handyman and gardener. She'll pay well of that I've no doubt, but she's old and frail and I need someone I can trust." She smiled suddenly "I know I can trust you Sam"

He raised his eyes to hers and she saw sudden hope flare in their green depths. A dimple creased his cheek and she realised he was smiling.

"You can trust me Mary. Would there be space for…?"

"Your brother – of course – look give me an hour – go and get cleaned up and then wait for me in the lobby. Oh and Sam?"

"Yeah"

"Get something to eat please; I don't want you crashing out on me ok?"

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sam washed and changed the best he could in the tiny men's room. He took the clothes that Mary had given him and put them on, wincing as he noticed just how short the jeans were, almost cut-offs on his long legs. He drank another coffee and took some of the toast that the helper gave to him. Finally he felt better and went to meet Mary in the lobby.

Sam was curious as to where they might be going. He sat in her small car, trying to fit his large frame into the cramped interior, watching as they left the poorer part of town. Soon the tiny houses and abandoned shops gave way to large white fronted houses with lush lawns and two or three expensive looking cars in the driveway. Mary pulled up outside one of the houses and gestured for Sam to get out.

This house was not like the others. The front was dingy looking and the lawn overgrown and weed laden. Curtains twitched as they moved up the drive and the door creaked open to reveal a small grey haired old lady who greeted them with a smile that spread slowly across her wrinkled face

"Mary!" she embraced the younger woman "How lovely to see you child"

"Mom" Mary hugged her mother tightly "How are you?"

"Tired – but I'll live" soft blue eyes watched Sam curiously "Who is this? Another of your waifs and strays?"

"This is Sam, he needs a job and a place to stay" Mary flushed at her mother's remark "Sam; this is my mother Lily, as you can see she needs the services of a gardener, a painter and a general handyman" she smiled "You can trust him Mom"

"I can see that" a gentle hand reached out and touched Sam's arm "Well Sam, do you think you can get this old place looking ship shape again?"

"Yes Ma'am" Sam found himself warming to the old lady. He'd never known his grandparents, Dean and Dad being the only family he'd ever had. He felt a sudden pang of regret for all the things he and Dean had never experienced and he squeezed Lily's hand in reassurance "I could do this"

"I'll pay you $20 Sam and you can stay here free of charge" she smiled "Let me show you the summer house it will be ideal for you"

They moved round to the back of the house and Sam gasped. In the large, and equally as overgrown, back garden was a small white building. Inside it was musty and unused, but there were two good sized bedrooms, a tiny kitchen and a living area. Sam felt his heart leap; it was perfect! It was perfect for him and Dean. He turned to Mary and, without thinking, enveloped her in a large hug.

"Thank you – thank you! You've saved me and you've saved Dean"

Mary let herself be held in the young man's grasp until she could no longer breathe.

"You might not be thanking me when you get going on this garden Sam" she mused with a smile, but nothing could erase the joy she felt as seeing Sam smile and she said a silent prayer for both him and his brother.

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**The Hospital**

Dean had been chasing demons all his life; Well, most of it. He could barely remember what life was like before his mom died. Occasional flashes came into his mind, his mother's scent, her touch, the colour of her eyes. He could just about recall that last Christmas and hanging up his stocking, but beyond that, he only remembered motel rooms, car journeys and hunting. All this swirled around his head as he lay, blood soaked and exhausted, in the back of the Ambulance, not really knowing how he got there and why it mattered so much.

When Dean woke again he was lying in a hospital bed, his chest bound, and his arm in a cast. He felt fuzzy and disconnected as if he had lost the use of his bodily functions. IV drips ran from his arms, his legs refused to move and all he could do was open his eyelids and blink. They told him, gently, that he had been in a coma and that he would be weak for several weeks and, God, they had been right. He was still lying in the goddamned bed, staring at the dingy ceiling, listening to the beep of his heart monitor. He usually hated being sick, like that time with his heart, he couldn't wait to check himself out and die in the peaceful surroundings of his grubby motel, now however he didn't want to leave, didn't want to get up. He wasn't bored, just weak and, fuck, still tired. How much sleep could one person have? He glanced over at the IV that was feeding him. He thought he'd miss junk food, greasy burgers and sticky cheese but he didn't, in fact he couldn't face anything solid and constantly refused the soup and glucose drinks the nurses tried to force on him. He stared back at the ceiling again, wondering what day it was? What time it was? He only knew the difference between day and night because in the day Sam was here and at night he wasn't.

Sam – all he could remember about any of this was his baby brother. Sam carrying him out of the cabin; Sam dragging him out of the car; Sam sitting by his bed talking to him, talking, talking, talking. Hell, he'd never heard Sam talk so much. Dean had been too weak to talk back but listening to Sam's soft voice had given him comfort and warmth and he was eternally grateful for every moment that Sam was with him.

Then there was Dad. Where was Dad? Dean was a bit fuzzy about the details; he could only remember arriving at the cabin in the Impala and then being carried out again in Sam's arms. Where was Dad? He'd been in the cabin hadn't he? He'd been in the car. Dean closed his eyes again, breathing deeply, where was Dad?

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Sam walked into the ward and noticed that his brother was sleeping again. He sat down on the chair nearest to Dean's bed and put his hand over his brothers. Dean's eyes flickered open suddenly and he moved his head slightly, staring at Sam.

"Hey" Sam rubbed his fingers against Dean's knuckles. He couldn't bring himself to ask how Dean felt, his brother's pale face and the dark shadows beneath his blurry eyes told their own tale "I've got some news"

"Yeah" Dean's voice sounded like he'd been gargling with nails and he coughed at the effort.

"Yeah, I've got myself a job" Sam kept his eyes on his brother's face and he saw Dean's eyebrows rise, saw the concern flicker in those green depths "No, no! Not that sort of job, not hunting" he realised the reason for Dean's concern and tapped him lightly on the knuckles "A proper job. Not only that Dean, I've got us somewhere to stay for a while...until you feel better"

"Better" the scratchy voice was harsh and weak "When will that be?"

"The doctors said to be patient Dean – it's going to be a long haul bro'" Sam forced a smile "Look Dean, it's a good job and a nice place, won't do any harm to chill out a bit, you know a little R & R"

"Dad?" that one word made Sam's heart leap. It was the first time that he'd heard his brother mention his father's name since the accident. Dean had been barely lucid and very weak and Sam hadn't wanted to broach the subject. It was too late now and Sam knew there was no going back.

"Dad" he swallowed hard "Dad didn't make it Dean" he couldn't dress it up, couldn't say it any other way. He watched Dean's face, saw the expression change; the pale cheeks become impossibly paler "Dean?" His brother's body began to shake, his shoulders shuddering, and his eyes wild. Sam shot from his chair and put his hands on Dean's shoulders, squeezing hard. This was Dean; Dean's whose emotions were always buried deep within him, Dean whose reaction to most tender moments was to make a glib remark or a caustic comment. Sam moved closer, aware of the IV line and his brother's injuries "Dean, please"

Dean's body shook with silent sobbing, God, he wanted to cry but there was not enough liquid in him for tears. He was conscious of Sam holding him, talking to him, but he didn't care. His dad was dead, he was an orphan and his life would never, ever be the same again. He heard the monitor next to him begin to beep louder and he felt Sam tense, heard the panic in his voice, but he couldn't stop it or himself. His last thought as he fell into welcome unconsciousness was why? Why? Why?

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sam stayed in the hospital long enough to watch the doctors and nurses work on his brother. They explained it was just a panic attack and Dean would be fine, but he could see by the look in their eyes that they were blaming him for what happened and that they wanted him out of there whilst they repaired the damage. Sam blamed himself enough and, when he was finally reassured of Dean's condition, was relieved to leave the ward and get out into the fresh air.

He took the bus back to Lily's house and let himself into the summer house. It looked even dingier in the darkness and he lit one of the dusty lamps, sitting heavily on the worn sofa. He felt bad about the way he had handled Dean and the news about his dad but he hadn't expected that sort of reaction. Fuck, in all the years he had known his brother, he had never seen him react like that to anything. Sam felt tears of self pity form a lump in his throat and he brushed at his face angrily. Fuck – he had to stop crying now – he had to stop feeling so sorry for himself and concentrate on his Dean and his recovery. He lay down on the sofa, kicking off the ill fitting shoes and undoing the belt of the too short jeans. He was hungry and thirsty, but felt too tired to go out and get something. Apart from the dwindling $30 he had brought with him from the hospital he had no money anyway. He yawned, tomorrow he better get down to business on the garden, God he needed that $20 an hour that Lily was going to pay him and he needed it fast. He yawned again and closed his eyes, forcing all thoughts from his head, he needed to sleep.

He rose at six, washed in the tiny bathroom and dressed in the clothes that Mary had given him. The weather was warm, so he rolled up the jeans even further and opted for just the tee shirt, even though it was a little short. He found tools, a mower and some shears in the tumble down shed and began work. All his energy and anger went into the garden and he worked and worked, ignoring the gnawing hunger in his stomach. Every weed he pulled was something that angered or upset him; every tug was for every unfair thing that had ever happened to him. He worked to forget, to forget his father's death, to forget his brother's pain and, mostly, he worked to forget he had nowhere to call home, nowhere had he truly belonged. He would have continued working but at about midday, Lily came out of her house and gestured he stop, insisting he ate the sandwich she made and drink several glasses of lemonade

"I'm paying you by the hour son" she touched his hot face gently "Carry on like this and your going to cost me a small fortune"

Sam accepted her kindness and sat on the grass, surveying his work. His arms and back were beginning to ache and he had to remind himself that he had only just gotten out of the hospital. He stretched, enjoying the sun on his face, the taste of the homemade sandwich, common place to some but pure luxury to Sam Winchester. After lunch he worked some more and only stopped at 5pm because he had to take a shower, ready to visit Dean, a visit that he was totally dreading.

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**The Hospital**

Dean had been propped up on his pillows ready for his food. The nurses insisted he try eating to '_regain some of his strength_'. The thought of any food made him want to vomit and he closed his eyes for a moment, wanting more than anything to slip into sleep so that they left him alone. Since yesterday's 'incident' they had treated him as if he were made of cut glass and, to his surprise, he had let them. The weakness that had enveloped him since the accident was stronger than ever and he couldn't even be bothered to try and fight it. He tried to remember the crash but his memory was too fuzzy, too indistinct. He shook his head, ignoring the salty sting of tears on his face, his dad was dead, his dad, the centre of his life for so long, was dead. The expression on Sam's face when he told said the words 'Dad didn't make it" would haunt him for the rest of his days. Sam was afraid to say those words, Dean knew it and he knew why, Sam knew those words would break Dean and Sam had been right.

The nurses came bringing with them soup and soft bread. Dean didn't have the energy to hold the spoon and submitted to being fed like a baby. His old self would have balked at the humiliation, but this new Dean let them do it, let them force the foul tasting, watery, tomato mess into his mouth, let them crumble the bread and put it on his tongue. The nurses were young and pretty, but they had no interest in this pale, thin and morose young man who was scarred both externally and internally. The old Dean, the one that only thought with his downstairs brain, would have hated to be ignored; the new Dean didn't give a shit. He let them wipe the tomato drool from his chin and lay back on the pillows, he was just about to close his eyes when the door opened and in walked Sam.

Sam was wearing the same ill fitting clothes as yesterday and Dean took in his shabby and worn appearance. Sam's face was pale, but his cheeks were flushed and his damn hair stuck up all over the place. There was a blood stain on Sam's tee shirt and his shoes were scuffed. For a moment Dean wanted to scream at Sam to fuck off, but he resisted the temptation – hell he could barely speak so screaming was definitely out – and just stared at Sam.

"Hi Dean" Sam smiled "I started work today – I told you I had a job didn't I?" the speech was fast and eager, like Sam was a cheerleader trying to enthuse the team "I'm getting $20 an hour Dean and there's somewhere for us both to live when you finally get out of here" he put his hand over his brothers and Dean felt the warmth and pressure of that hand, he looked into Sam's face, his too bright smile, his desperate eyes "I can fix it up Dean, make it homely" he paused "It's gonna be a while before we can hunt again Dean, we need somewhere to go"

Dean closed his eyes, wanting to hide in the darkness. Their dad was gone, his baby was gone and Sam was talking about home furnishings. Dean felt his stomach churn and he wanted to throw up his recent meal; he swallowed down hard, wishing Sam would just go away, leave him alone to the weakness, leave him alone to just fade away.

"We'll get back to hunting eventually Dean" Sam was still talking "We can find other ways to defeat the demon, doesn't matter that the colt is gone, there will be other ways. Just need to get you back to full strength Dean"

"Shut up Sam" his voice came as a shock even to his own ears "Fucking shut up" he opened his eyes and looked at his brother whose mouth had fallen open and who was staring at him like some sort of wet fish "I don't give a fuck about your job Sam or our little home, I don't care about the demon Sam, I don't care about anything anymore" he felt his body tremble and his throat closing, so he spat out the rest of his words quickly, before Sam could stop him "Just go away Sam – just leave – that's what you always wanted anyhow – just leave Sam and don't ever come back" he closed his eyes again and turned his head to the pillow. He heard Sam take a hitching breath, felt the hand on his tremble, then it was removed and, after the longest of silences, the door creaked and Sam was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Sam sat on the bus, his forehead pressed against the window, staring out into the night. He found himself replaying the events in the hospital over and over again until he thought he would go insane. Interspersed with these thoughts came other snippets of the last few weeks, the cabin, hot and cloying, his fear when pressed tight against the wall, Dean's blood pouring out, and his father's voice harsh and possessed. He bit his lip hard to stop from crying again, fuck, he was so out of tears. The bus stopped and he alighted, finding himself outside of the homeless shelter, desperately wanting to talk to someone who might understand.

Mary was in her office, she wore a grey tee-shirt and jeans and her face was very pale. She looked up as Sam walked in and her hand went to her throat

"Sam! Nothing's wrong with mom is it?"

"No" Sam felt instantly guilty "No your mom's fine – I just needed someone to talk to"

"What's wrong Sam?" Mary gestured for him to sit "You look all in – have you been eating?"

Sam shrugged. He couldn't actually remember the last time he'd eaten and he did feel exhausted. Mary shook her head "Come on – I'll buy you dinner"

They ate at a small diner just around the corner from the shelter. Everyone seemed to know Mary and Sam wondered how many of these people she had once helped. He realised he knew nothing about her or her mother and thought, maybe, he never would, Mary was the sort of person who seemed born to help. She reminded him, strangely, of Missouri and he found comfort in that thought. Mary seemed to catch him looking at her and smiled, her blue eyes kind "Spit it out Sam" she said.

Sam found himself telling her everything, about the hospital, about Dean and the way he took his father's death. He told her about this evening's fight and the fact that Dean had told him to leave and not come back. Mary kept silent as he talked, nodding her head once or twice, but offering no comment. When he had finally finished, she took a sip of her coffee and sighed "Have you and Dean any other family Sam? Cousins? Grandparents?"

"No – no one"

"No girlfriends, wives?"

"My girlfriend Jessica was killed nearly a year ago" Sam winced at the memory, but was surprised that the telling got easier "Dean's had a few girlfriends, nothing too intense" he frowned "There was this one girl, Cassie, but nothing seemed to come of that either"

"So you are alone in the world – the two of you?"

"Yeah – I guess"

"And you don't have a home? You don't have a job? How did you get to this Sam? How did you get here?"

He stared at her, unable to answer the question. How could her tell her about his life, about Dean's life. How could she possibly understand? He had never been a good liar, Dean being the one that usually flashed the fake ID's, flashed the charming grin, told the tall stories. He swallowed hard "You wouldn't understand if I told you. It's complicated Mary, too complicated" he looked into her eyes, seeing the confusion there "You told me you wouldn't ask questions and you know you can trust me. I can't tell you Mary, all you need to know is that Dean is all I have in this world right now and I'm all he has. I want to help him get better and get out of the hospital; I want us to be together again. I told you I didn't belong here and I don't..I just don't know where I belong Mary; all I do know is that I belong with Dean and...And...he doesn't want me anymore"

"Oh Sam" she put her hand over his, her heart going out to him "You've got to understand, your brother's ill and weak and his emotions are all over the place. He probably feels like you do, but he hasn't your strength at the moment. All you can do is give him time"

"He doesn't want to see me"

"Sam, just carry on as if tonight never happened. Go visit him, talk to him and if he ignores you just carry on talking. You've got to try and break down those barriers Sam, once they start to crack, you can work through the issues"

"He loved our father" Sam stated suddenly, his mind working "Our father was the centre of his world. We had been separated for a while and his dearest hope was that we would all be together again – a family" Sam swallowed again, his chest growing tight "That's not going to happen now and we've even less than we had before"

"Sam, you have no idea how many men come into my shelter with nothing, no one" Mary shook her head "They don't have anyone to love or to love them; they are totally alone in this world. You're not alone Sam, you have your brother, do you know how much that gives you?"

Sam looked into her warm eyes for a moment and felt the tightness of his chest recede. She was right, he still had Dean, Dean wasn't dead, Dean was still alive and whilst he was still alive, there was still hope. He smiled at Mary, his heart lightening with every moment

"I'm going to take your advice Mary" he said "I'm going to get Dean out of that hospital and back where he belongs – with me"

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Sam's days began to take on a familiar pattern and he had a routine, something he had not had in his life since Stanford. He would work in the garden or on the house during the day, sometimes stopping to share a sandwich with Lily, sometimes making his own lunch, a skill he was beginning to learn. Lily paid him weekly and he used his first week's money to buy some clothes for himself and for Dean and the next week he started to furnish and clean the summer house, making it more like home. In the evenings he would visit the hospital, finding his brother much the same. Dean wouldn't speak to him, sometimes acted like he didn't even exist, sometimes resorting to irrational anger, breaking his vow of silence long enough to tell him to 'Fuck off'. Sam didn't react to this and just continued to visit his brother, understanding now that Dean was going through a grieving process and that he had to be patient or Dean would never get better either physically or mentally.

The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months and, finally, five months after the truck had totalled their car and their world, Dean Winchester was discharged from the hospital and put in the care of his brother Sam and at this point, Sam Winchester realised that his problems had only just begun.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**The hospital**

Dean sat in the wheelchair they had given him and stared at the door. They had told him he needed to stay in the wheelchair, that he was too weak to consider walking yet and that he should let his brother take care of him, then they had put a blanket over his legs! Dean Winchester, killer of all things supernatural, chick magnet, soldier and protector had a blanket tucked around his legs as he sat in a wheelchair. Dean snorted, weakly. He should be embarrassed, he should be fighting this as hard as he fought everything else in his life, but he couldn't. He was too weak, he was too tired and he had had enough.

Despite telling Sam to leave, the awkward fuck had decided to stay. Not only had he stayed, but he still insisted on visiting every day with tales of his job and their house and all the things they were going to do when Dean got better. Dean had tried ignoring him, tried turning away from him, thrown the occasional curse word at him, but nothing worked. Sam was like very thick glue, sticking till the end and hell of a job to remove. What Sam didn't know is that Dean didn't plan on getting better. In fact Dean was planning to sit in this wheelchair and waste away. His dad was dead now and the colt burnt up in his beloved impala. What was the point? They would never be a family now and, although Sam was determined to play house at the moment, Dean knew that, given the chance, he would be off to Stanford and his normal life. He could taste salt at the back of his throat and he blinked. He never thought it would come to this, but he didn't belong anywhere anymore and he hated this feeling even more than he hated himself.

"Are you ready?" Sam seemed to have snuck in without him noticing. It had to be said that his brother was looking a hell of a lot better. He was wearing his own clothes again and his once pale skin was tanned and healthy looking. The outdoor life obviously suited him, Dean mused, bitterly "I've got all the meds you're going to need and there's a taxi waiting outside" Sam kicked the break of the wheelchair free "I bet you can't wait to get out of here"

Dean grunted and let Sam push him. He didn't really care whether he stayed here or went with Sam but he didn't seem to have much choice. He could see the nurses watching him and he bet that they were glad to see the back of him. Hell, he hadn't actually been Mr Entertainment. He hunched down in the chair and silently gave them the finger, at least he wouldn't have to eat any more of that tomato mush they called fucking soup.

The taxi ride seemed endless with Sam keeping up his usual running commentary. Dean wanted to scream as he heard all about the 'sainted' Mary and her mother and all the help they had given Sam. Dean pressed his forehead to the window and watched the world go by; it seemed dull and grey now, nothing like the one he knew before. Finally they arrived at their destination in the richer part of town and Dean was allowed some respite from Sam's talking as his brother got him and his belongings out of the taxi and wheeled them up the path.

"This is it!" Sam sounded so absurdly cheerful that, even through his fug of depression, Dean found it hard to repress a small smile. The house was small and someone, Sam obviously, had painted it to make it look cleaner and brighter. The inside had been painted too and new rugs lay on the floors. In the living room there was a comfy looking sofa and a small TV, as well as a bookcase full of books and magazines. The two bedrooms each had small, but comfortable looking single beds in them and the kitchen looked warm and welcoming. "Do you want something to eat? I've got some burgers in the fridge or there's bread for sandwiches"

"Nice little place you've got here Sam" Dean was surprised how scratchy and raw his voice sounded. This was a lovely place and Sam had obviously worked hard to make it homely, but it wasn't home. Dean allowed himself a small fantasy, thinking how wonderful this all would be if his father was still alive, if they had actually killed the fucking demon and they could all live here as a family. There was nothing evil here, nothing dark, the whole place smelt of paint and polish, faint scents of cooking and soap enveloping him. Yeah it looked like home and smelt like home, but it wasn't fucking home. He swallowed bitter bile and looked up into his brother's eager face "Ain't hungry Sam, just push me into my room and let me crash" he ignored the hurt look in his brother's eyes "And don't bother to disturb me Sam – I'm not in the caring sharing mood"

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The scent of something cooking woke Dean out of his stupor and he opened his eyes, momentarily wondering where he was, the room was dark with only a thin sliver of moonlight peeping through the heavy drapes. He lay for a moment listening to the unfamiliar sounds; cooking pots clanged together, the hissing of something on a stove, a soft voice singing along to some obscure pop song on the radio. For a moment he thought he might be dreaming, then he realised that the person singing was Sam. Dean couldn't help but listen to his brother's gentle crooning, he'd never heard Sam even whistle before and it was strange and somehow comforting. He was too tired to move and, despite the appetising smell, too weak and sick to eat, all he wanted to do was to drift back into sleep whilst listening to his brother sing and maybe make believe that everything was just one long nightmare and he would wake in his house in Lawrence safe in the arms of his family.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 

Sam woke early as was his habit and he went into the kitchen to eat breakfast. He knew it was way too soon to wake Dean and he didn't really want an early morning confrontation. He knew his brother was still suffering and he was determined to be as patient as possible but it was just so fucking hard. He missed his Dean, the Dean that would rib him and call him Sammy, the Dean that would hit on anything with legs, the Dean that always had a glib remark or an answer to everything. Sam sighed and watched the sun rising, he wanted to plant some shrubs this morning and then work on the vegetable patch, then there was the other plants to water and the lawn to mow. He laughed to himself, funny, he mused that he should enjoy this job so much, when he had first started it had exhausted him and, bizarrely, he found it hard to work during daylight hours, when they had hunted most of their 'work' had been done at night and they would sleep during the day. Sam found that now he had a regular routine he was sleeping better than ever before and, more noticeably, he was no longer having nightmares. He stretched and yawned preparing himself for the new day ahead and stoically ignoring the closed door that would lead him to Dean. That little experience could certainly wait awhile.

Sam looked at the book about plants that Lily had given him to try and get some information on where to plant the shrubs. He wished he know more about horticulture and didn't have to rely so much on books. Hell, it would be a long time before he could pick up his education at Stanford – if ever – but he wouldn't mind learning a bit more about gardening. He found himself grinning, fuck, it might even earn him a bit of extra money once they started hunting again, it sure would beat hustling pool or using fake credit. He looked at his watch 9.30 am – time to wake Dean. He swallowed hard, ignoring the clenching of his stomach; he wasn't looking forward to this.

Dean was lying on his back, eyes open. He frowned when Sam came in and turned his face away "No breakfast Sammy" his scratchy voice croaked "Could do with a piss though"

Sam helped his brother to the bathroom and gave him some privacy. He found himself talking again, hoping to break through Dean's sulky reserve.

"Do you want to sit outside? It's a beautiful day and we could have some lunch with Lily – hey we could maybe get in a pizza later – what do ya think?"

"I want to go back to my room" Dean's voice sounded whiney like a childs and Sam shook his head

"You gotta eat Dean – else you'll never get better and the fresh air will do you good"

"What part of go back to my room didn't you get geek boy?" Dean leant heavily on Sam's arm, his head close to Sam's shoulder "Just put me back in my bed and fuck off"

"Dean…"

"Sammy" Dean turned, his green eyes cold in his pale face "Just leave me be"

"Have it your own way – but you'll miss the sun" Sam lay his brother on the bed and left silently, closing the door behind him and biting back both anger and tears. 'Fuck Dean – why are you so fucking stubborn?"

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Sam worked solidly until the sun began to dip and the air grew colder. He packed away his things and went indoors, lighting the stove and running himself a bath. Afterwards he dried, changed into clean clothes and put some burgers on to cook. He had beers in the fridge and he opened two bottles and placed them on the table. Soon a wonderful smell filled the house and Sam hoped that this would be enough to tempt his brother out of his room. He took a deep breath and went, for the second time today, into his brother's bedroom.

Dean was sitting up staring at the wall and Sam felt a sudden jolt of panic as he looked at his brother, really looked, maybe for the first time. Dean was paper white, his eyes glassy, his high cheekbones sharp, his cheeks seemed to be sinking in on themselves and his full mouth was too pale. His once muscular body was thin and emaciated and Sam could see Dean's ribs jutting through his tee shirt. Sam strode over to the bed and put his hand on his brothers

"Dean, Dean you have to get up, you have to eat something – fuck man – you're wasting away – you're dying man"

"Sammy" Dean ground out, his eyes making sudden contact "Don't you know that's what I want to do"

"Please Dean" Sam was aware that he sounded needy, but he didn't care "Please Dean, you're my brother, you're all I have left in this world, please, please I need you to eat, I need you to get better, I need you Dean"

"Sam – what part of this don't you get? You're the clever one around here, the college boy, the one with the smarts – I don't want to be here Sam – let me go"

"Fuck!" tears burst from Sam's lids and his hand's clasped around Dean's shoulders shaking him "Fuck – I can't do this anymore Dean – I can't do this anymore" he flung his brother back on the bed and turned on his heel. The door slammed so hard the bed shook and Dean heard footsteps stomping down the hall, then the front door was flung open and Sam was out of the house and walking away.

Sam walked and walked, with no real idea of where he was going and what he was going to do. He didn't want to go back to Mary and admit defeat and he didn't want to go back to Dean either. He didn't belong here, he didn't belong back there, fuck, he had no idea where he belonged, he just wanted to get away but he didn't know how and he didn't know where too. He stopped for a moment and looked at the all night bar across the street, it looked a dive and he usually hated bars, but he needed a drink and he had money in his pocket that was just begging to be spent. He smiled and, watching for traffic, crossed the road and followed the pounding music into the heart of the bar.

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Dean didn't know how long he lay waiting for Sam to return, but he knew that it was now dark outside and he had been alone for a long time. He felt a pressure on his bladder and he pushed himself up – Dean Winchester certainly wasn't going to be found dead in a pool of his own piss – and flopped off the bed, determined to get to the bathroom at least. He staggered and crawled along the hallway but he couldn't quite make it, he put his hand's against the wall, bracing himself, then stumbled and fell headlong. He blacked out for a moment and found himself lying, damp and aching in the bathroom doorway – so near – yet so far.

He lay for a long time and, suddenly, he felt something stir inside of him and he felt as if he were waking from a long, painful nightmare. He kept seeing his baby brother's face, seeing the desperation in his eyes, hearing his voice pleading, pleading. Dean swallowed hard and something inside of him broke and he found himself whispering, almost hysterically, '_Christo_'. He had been possessed, not by a demon, but by his own fucking emotion, his own fucking stubbornness. Sam had done everything he could to help him and Dean had done nothing in return. Now Sam had gone and Dean was left here alone, to get his wish, he was going to die, lying in a pool of his own urine and blood and it was all his fault. As darkness engulfed him, he hoped to god that no one would blame Sam for this mess, Dean had done enough harm to his brother to last a lifetime, he was just sad that he would never be able to say sorry to him. "Goodbye Sammy" he hissed as his eyes closed and the light went out.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

Mary arrived at her mother's at 11am and was surprised to see that Sam wasn't in the garden. She knew he always started work early and he was usually well into his stride by this time, perhaps he was sick or his brother felt unwell. Sam had said little about his brother since their little talk a few weeks earlier, but she knew that he was now out of the hospital and Sam was taking care of him. She went up to Sam's door and knocked calling out softly "Sam – Sam are you ok?" She listened for a moment and then she heard it, very faint, but definitely there, a long drawn out moan of pain "Sam!" she tore up the garden path and banged hard on her mom's door "Get me the spare key for the summer house" she cried "I think there's something wrong with Sam"

She managed to get the key in the lock and open the door without her hands shaking too much. It was dark in the corridor and she could smell sweat, urine and blood. Her heart began to thump as she saw the still figure lying half in and half out of the bathroom door, it was too small to be Sam so she guessed it must be his brother. She rushed to his side, feeling his neck for a pulse and breathed with relief as she felt the soft throbbing "Dean?" she was sure that was his name "Dean, its Mary, are you alright? Where the hell is Sam?"

"Gone" bleary eyes opened and a soft, scratchy voice croaked out the answer "He's gone and it's my fault"

"He's left you" Mary couldn't believe her ears, Sam loved his brother, everything he'd done was for this man, yet here he was sick and wounded and Sam had left him.

"He..I drove him away – I told him to fuck off and he finally took me at my word" the body on the floor shivered "Please – help me – I – I want to get up – I need to get up – I need to find my brother"

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When Dean had first opened his eyes and seen the woman in the blue dress leaning over him he thought it was his mother, then he realised that this woman with tired eyes and pale face was older than his mother had been and he knew he wasn't dead, he was still in the land of the living and he could still go and find Sam. The woman, Mary, somehow managed to get him up, wash, dress and change him and soon he was sitting on the soft sofa eating scrambled eggs and drinking strong coffee. He already felt a little better, a little stronger and he desperately wanted, no needed, to find Sammy, to say he was sorry, to make it better before it was too late.

Mary watched him eat, her blue eyes kind but curious "What happened?" she spoke with kindness and patience "Why did he leave you?"

Dean felt his cheeks flush and he took a deep breath, telling this gentle woman what had happened was hard, but haltingly and with some encouragement, he poured out his sorry tale. When he had finished he looked at her face, trying to read the expression in her eyes "I know" he hissed, brokenly "I know that it's all my fault that Sam left, but I couldn't help it, couldn't help myself" he sighed "Now he could be anywhere, he could be hurt, fuck he could even be dead and I haven't been able to say that I'm sorry"

"Dean, you've got to realise, you were sick, you were in shock, your father had died" Mary touched his hand "When Sam came to the shelter he was in exactly the same shape, he didn't know what to do, didn't know where he belonged, all he really knew is that he belonged with you." She smiled "You are both very lucky Dean, I think you know that now"

"Yeah" Dean swallowed hard "Mary – please – can we please go and find my brother"

They had driven round the town at least twice and still no sign of Sam, from his position in the front seat Dean was beginning to get very, very anxious and, although he was loathe to admit it, very, very afraid. Fuck, where was he? He had visions of his baby brother lying in the curb sick and bleeding, getting into a fight because he was so angry with Dean and getting hurt or, and Dean could not bare to think of it, leaving town altogether and letting Dean stew in his own miserable juice.

"Dean" he heard Mary hiss, "Look, look I think it's Sam"

Sure enough there was his brother's unmistakable gangly figure weaving down the main street. Sam's movements were uncoordinated and erratic and Dean's heart sank – Sam was hurt, Sam was sick. He wound down the window in a panic and thrust his head out "SAM!" he yelled. Sam turned slowly at the sound of his name and Dean let out a breath he did not even know he was holding. Sam's face was flushed and his hazel eyes seemed blown and hazy. He staggered towards the car; his movement's slow and very deliberate. Sam was not hurt or sick, Sam was totally and utterly wasted "Dean" Sam's voice sounded soft and his tongue slurred on the n of Dean "I fucked off"

"Yeah Sammy" Dean's eyes met Mary's amused ones "I noticed"

"What ya doing out of bed Dean?" Sam's head came close to his and Dean winced as the beer and whiskey fumes assailed his nostrils "In Mary's car" he lifted a large hand and waved his fingers "Hi Mary"

"I've come to take you home Sammy" Dean gripped the side of his brother's face

"You don't want me Dean" Sam swayed "I fucked off – like you told me too"

"Sammy – get in the car" Dean fumbled with the handle and opened the car door, six foot five inches of baby brother almost fell across his lap and Dean gasped in pain and discomfort "I think we should get you in the back there Sammy" Dean said, gently

"Come with me" a hand swiped at Dean's face "I've missed you Dean"

With some huffing and puffing, Dean got into the back and managed to get Sam's head in his lap, his brother's long legs pressed awkwardly against the closed door of the car. Mary, in the driver's seat, stayed silent and she drove slowly, aware that both brothers' must have been feeling very uncomfortable for very different reasons. Dean let his fingers tangle in his brother's untidy hair, brushing it gently. Sam sighed, his eyes half closed, the effects of the alcohol taking their toll.

"Where we goin Dean?" he breathed, eyes beginning to close

"Home Sammy – we're going home"

"I've missed you" Sam slurred again, his hand reaching up to touch Dean's "I love you Dean" he sighed and his eyes finally shut, his breathing deep and peaceful. Dean watched his brother's flushed face and smiled. Hell, they hadn't said those words to each other since Sammy was a little boy, dependant on Dean for everything. He swallowed, fuck, everyone was allowed a moments weakness. Bending slightly he pressed his lips on to Sam's forehead and kissed him softly "I love you too Sammy" he said.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Sam groaned and forced open his eyes. His head hurt so much he wondered if he had been hit by a car or, even worse, another truck. He couldn't remember anything beyond going into the bar and ordering a beer, he swallowed the taste of sour alcohol in his mouth, well maybe two or three beers. He put his hand to his head and groaned again, his stomach protesting. God he was going to throw up. He moved as slowly as possible to the end of his bed but it was too late, vomit, rancid and stale, heaved from his body and he clung, guiltily, to the end of the bed retching till every last drop had been expelled from his gut.

"Morning sunshine" Dean's voice seemed to come from a great distance and Sam flopped back down on the bed, a hand flung across his eyes "Not working on the garden today Sammy?"

"Dean" his voice sounded thin and reedy "Dean what are you doing out of bed?" his memory was creeping slowly back to him and he suddenly remembered the reason for his flight and his need to consume as much beer as his body would let him "You should be resting"

"Had enough rest to last me a lifetime Sammy" Dean's voice sounded almost like the old Dean, the Dean he was convinced he had lost "Any way some body had to sit with you last night – make sure you didn't choke on your own vomit. He laughed and, again, it sounded just like Dean's old laugh, the one he hadn't heard since before the crash, since before…Sam forced his eyes open again – sure enough Dean was sitting by his bed in his wheelchair, he was wearing his Black Sabbath tee, his favourite jeans and, more importantly, his shit-eating Dean Winchester grin "I'm too weak to clear up your vomit though Sammy, so you'll have to do that yourself or at least explain it to Lily"

"How did I get back here?" Sam decided to close his eyes again and, to his astonishment, he felt Dean's hand on his hair, a gentle caress like he used to do when Sam was just a baby and needed some comfort "I remember the fight we had and the bar"

"Yeah – good job it wasn't a Karaoke bar there Sam" Dean's voice sounded amused "I think you had a little more than three beers"

"Fuck yeah" Sam expelled a breath "Add that to the whiskey" he paused and waited for his stomach to stop rolling again "Dean – what happened?"

"You drank too much Sammy and you are a very funny drunk – let me tell you"

"No" Sam wanted to open his eyes again but couldn't so he concentrated on his brother's hand and soft voice "What happened to you?"

"Woke up Sam" Dean sounded sombre suddenly and the hand in his hair clenched "Woke up and realised what a fucking bastard I've been"

"Dean…"

"No Sam – no excuses ok – I've been a fucking idiot – I see that now" the hand in his hair began to stroke again "I felt so lost after the accident, so lost after you told me about dad" Dean's voice wavered "He's dead Sam – he's dead and he ain't ever coming back, but there's nothing we can do"

"We lost everything Dean" Sam was aware how miserable he sounded "Everything"

"We didn't lose everything little brother" Dean said, gently "Not everything and I know that now – just shoulda realised earlier that's all"

Sam risked opening his eyes and looked at Dean. His brother sat in his wheelchair, his hand still in Sam's hair, his green eyes pleading. Sam realised just how much he'd missed Dean, his big brother, the brother that had cared for him all his life and who needed him now, more than ever.

"We ok now Sam?" Dean was asking forgiveness and Sam wanted nothing more than to give him what he needed.

"We're ok now Dean" he grabbed his brother's hand and squeezed it tightly "We're ok"

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Dean sat on the porch in the late afternoon sunshine and watched his brother working on the garden. Sam was stripped to the waist, all brown skin and rippling muscles, the outdoor work and almost domestic existence really suited his brother and Dean couldn't help but smile as several young girls from the local community college found an excuse to pause outside of the house so that they could 'admire' Sam. Dean doubted that Sam knew he was being watched and doubted he would do anything even if he did, it was a shame really, Dean would have liked Sam to get out more, have some fun, but he knew better than to suggest it.

It had been two months since Sam's drunken escapade and Dean's moment of realisation and things had gotten slowly better. Dean had started to eat, to do his exercises, to take his meds and, as a consequence, had grown stronger by the day. He wasn't anywhere near full strength as yet, but he was getting there. Dean stretched and yawned. The brother's had settled into some sort of domesticity, something they had never really had or certainly never shared together. Sam worked in the day whilst Dean, much to his own surprise, did jobs around the house. He found himself putting up shelves, painting rooms and generally cleaning. Sam teased him about it, but he took it as it was intended and never once let on to his brother how much he actually enjoyed it. Some evenings Sam would cook and they would invite Mary and Lily round to share. Dean knew they owed these women more than they could ever repay and he thought of them as part of their family.

The money from Sam's job was saved as much as possible as they would need a new car and equipment before they could even think about getting back on the road again. Dean knew the demon was still out there, but everything seemed so distant now. Sam hadn't had a nightmare or a vision since they had been here and Dean felt a pang of regret that they would have to, one day, leave this peaceful existence. Dean knew now how easy it was to lose everything and how easy it could happen again. They had lived in the fucking impala for gods sake and the fact that all their worldly goods had exploded with her made Dean realise that they did need a base, they did need a home and they also needed something to do other than hunt. He was aware how lucky they had been this time and how lucky he was to have a brother like Sam, someone so strong, someone so determined. Dean wanted so badly to pay Sam back in some way and, staring at the young girls from the college, he might just have the ideal solution.

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Sam was tired and his back ached. He walked in to the house and was surprised to smell something cooking. Since Dean had begun to regain his strength, his brother had helped around the house a lot, but cooking wasn't something Dean actually did. Sam grinned as he thought about their 'rota', Sam cooked for three nights and on Dean's nights they always had take-out. He frowned, maybe Mary was here or Lily.

"Go shower" his brother called out from the kitchen "It'll be ready soon"

Sam showered and put on clean clothes. He went into the living room and found that the table was set for two, there was a bottle of wine in the centre and candles burning

"Are we expecting somebody?" Sam asked

"Only you Francis" Dean poked his head out of the kitchen "Sit down and grab a glass of wine – but don't open that envelope till I get in there"

Sam sat at the table and gazed at the large brown envelope that lay there. He fingered it lightly, wondering what was inside and what Dean was up to. He didn't have long to wait as his brother appeared suddenly, carrying a large plate of fried chicken and corn.

"Did you cook that?" Sam bit his lip, feeling his mouth water in anticipation

"Yeah" Dean's face might have been flushed from the cooking but Sam still found it amusing "I can cook you know, I just choose not to"

"What's the occasion Dean?" Sam frowned "I haven't forgotten your birthday or mine?"

"Nope" Dean gestured to the envelope "Open it"

Sam ripped into the brown paper with gusto and he pulled out the slips of paper, his eyes skimming over them, his heart pounding. It seemed that Samuel Winchester was now enrolled on a part time Horticultural course and that his brother Dean had applied to do part-time Mechanics. Sam felt his throat constrict and he could barely bring himself to speak "Dean…?"

"I asked Mary to help – apparently its free for those on low incomes – hey that's us bro" he grinned "We need something to fall back on Sam – we can't rely on hunting or hustling pool to support us anymore – I know that much"

"But the demon?" Sam was swallowing hard but he was unable to stem the tears "We can't just stop"

"We ain't gonna stop Sam – but we are going to slow down" he grinned "Mary says we can stay here as long as we like – forever if we want" he looked at his brother's stunned expression and reached out to touch his hand "Sam – we've never had a home before – now we've got one. The courses are part-time; once I'm well we can fit them in between jobs. Hell, its going to be a while before I'm strong enough for the big one – so we need somewhere to be and something to do in the meantime"

"We don't belong here though" Sam shook his head, still unable to believe, "You said that"

"Where do we belong Sam? On the road? In some rat infested motel? Fuck Sam - you should know by now, you should know where you belong"

"With you" Sam stared hard at his brother, his heart pounding "I belong with you"

"Right – and I belong with you – we belong together Sam – that's where we belong"

Sam felt a smile spread across his face and he reached out, hugging his brother tightly. Dean leant into the hug for a moment, then grinned "No flick chick moments here Sammy" he laughed. Sam laughed with him and when he ate that night, the fried chicken and corn that his brother had so lovingly cooked for tasted like the best banquet in the whole damn world.


End file.
